


mr. sandman

by bangandawhimper



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Consensual Somnophilia, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Sleep Paralysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26940130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bangandawhimper/pseuds/bangandawhimper
Summary: “Are you a virgin?” Akira asks his boyfriend, in the middle of one of their fancy dinners, in public.Goro chokes on his drink.“What the fuck,” Goro hisses at him after he recovers. “Why are you asking me this? Why are you asking me this now?”Akira shrugs. “Are you?”“Of course not,” Goro Akechi lies, like a liar.[Written for day 10 of Kinktober 2020]
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 21
Kudos: 399





	mr. sandman

The first time it happens, Akira is sure it’s a dream.

He’s half-asleep on the couch (one of his favorite nap spots besides the bed, the comfy chair, the nice rug, the sunbeam in the kitchen, the bad rug, the stairs, etc) when his boyfriend walks up to him, silently enough to avoid disturbing any person in the world but Akira, leans down, and kisses him. Gently pries his mouth open, licks inside.

And then Akira stirs—he can’t help it—and Goro is gone.

Here’s the thing: Akira and Goro have been dating for three months now. Probably. Sometimes it feels more like they’ve been dating since the moment they met. Sometimes it feels like nothing has changed at all. But they’ve been going out to dinners and staying over at each others’ apartments and spending time on their hobbies (read: killing Shadows, general thievery) together and Goro once bought him a rose and then left town for a week so Akira is pretty sure they’re dating.

But they haven’t done anything.

Like, _anything_ anything.

Akira thought Goro had no interest in it. They would fight and flirt and dance and make eyes at each other and then nothing would happen because… who could say. Maybe Goro thought it was too early. Maybe he was asexual or something. Maybe sex was the _one_ aspect of people-ing in which Goro Akechi was shy. Maybe they weren’t actually dating.

But it probably wasn’t that last one.

The second time it happens Akira is sick. Not the bad kind of sick, just an inconvenient kind of sick where one acts much more pathetic than one is actually feeling because headaches suck and stuffy noses are annoying. Akira had knocked himself out with cold medicine the night before because he was being a big baby about it and when he woke up his boyfriend was touching him.

Light fingers around his neck, dragging down his chest. A thumb stroking his cheek but in like, a very non-platonic way. And again when Akira moves, Goro disappears.

As soon as Akira wakes up properly he jacks off to the memory of Goro’s fingers. Then he feels pathetic about it. Then he eats some breakfast.

The third time is after one of their many “sleepovers.” They’re both on the floor, case papers strewn about, blankets and pillows and such dragged down from the couch above them. Theoretically asleep. Akira’s boyfriend is mouthing gently at his neck, his erection thrusting gently against his thigh, his hands grazing gently over Akira’s chest, and Akira is going to die if Goro doesn’t stop being gentle and give him _more_.

He moves. Goro pulls away. Pretends adamantly that nothing happened, even though his cheeks are red and flushed and he’s a fucking liar.

And, finally, Akira cannot take it anymore. He does some investigative work. Learns through Yusuke through Futaba through Ann through Sae that there exist no examples of Goro Akechi ever being in a real relationship. At least, not one anybody knew about. And that, compounded with Goro’s actions these past few weeks (years) gives him enough evidence (see, Akira is picking up on some of this detective stuff) for Akira to do something very stupid (he was overdue).

“Are you a virgin?” Akira asks his boyfriend, in the middle of one of their fancy dinners, in public.

Goro chokes on his drink.

“What the fuck,” Goro hisses at him after he recovers. “Why are you asking me this? Why are you asking me this _now?_ ”

Akira shrugs. “Are you?”

“Of course not,” Goro Akechi lies, like a liar.

“So you are.”

“What the fuck does it matter?” Goro snaps, a little too loud. Some heads turn around them. Akira smiles at them. Waves.

“It doesn’t,” he says after people lose interest, when they have a modicum of privacy again. Akira is thinking now that maybe they could have had this conversation literally anywhere else, but oh well. Too late. “But I can help you out with that, if you want. You keep kissing me when you think I’m asleep so…”

“I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“You can’t,” Goro mumbles. “‘Help’ me.”

“What?” Akira says, to be a piece of shit.

“You _can’t_ ,” Goro says louder, “you stupid piece of shit. Because you’re not.”

“Not…?”

“ _Not a virgin_.” Goro is gripping his glass so hard Akira is sure it’s going to shatter, looks like he’s about to make certain that Akira becomes a very dead not-a-virgin too. “I know you’re not. And I can’t—it’s unacceptable to me that—the two of us, we have to be… _I can’t lose to you_.”

Oh. _Oh_. Oh no.

There’s a reason that out of the two of them Akira is not the detective, because he missed the very important motive behind Goro’s actions.

Shit. Of course they could be nothing less than equal.

“Uh… there are people we could hire to solve that,” Akira offers.

“Absolutely out of the question.”

Akira has about ten seconds before Goro bolts, dinner or no. “I bet Yusuke would—”

“ _No!_ ” comes out as more of a squeak than anything, Goro clears his throat, stands up from his chair. “There’s nothing to be done.”

And then he vanishes for two weeks.

* * *

In the end, all it takes is a little bit of thought, a little bit of problem solving, and a challenge. Goro Akechi could never resist a challenge.

Akira leads him to a spot deep in the Metaverse—altered now that there are no gods fighting for control (for now) but still familiar. It’s reminiscent of a time when the two of them would fight and flirt and dance and make eyes at each other and were maybe probably definitely dating. Ah, how the times change.

He’s been left alone two weeks, so Akira kind of went all out. This particular safe area in the Metaverse is done up with blankets and pillows and candles which are far enough away from the aforementioned blankets and pillows to not be a Metaverse fire hazard and also rose petals that Akira spread out in the shape of a heart because he thought it would be funny.

“Joker?” Goro says when he sees it. “What the fuck.”

“Wait—” Akira digs into his pocket. “Just one more thing…”

He pulls out the item he’d crafted earlier, holds the Hypno Mist up so Goro can see too. Doesn’t bother to explain, because he never has to with Goro.

Goro’s eyes dart between Akira, the mist, the love nest (blanket fort). And back to Akira. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like a joker to you?”

“Shut up.” Goro searches his eyes. “You won’t be conscious at all. You won’t remember a thing.”

“Yeah.” Akira flips the mist between his fingers. “Kinda hot, right?”

“Hot?” Goro parrots, a little strangled.

Akira dares to step closer to his boyfriend. “You, doing whatever you want to me.”

“You won’t be awake for it—how is that ‘hot?’”

“I’ll be awake after,” Akira says, thinking of all the possibilities. A pleasant burning ache to his insides, bruises and bite marks appeared from nowhere, the taste of Goro on his lips.

Would he be rough? Would he be gentle? Would he clean Akira off, or leave a physical reminder of whatever he’d done on him, inside him?

“You won’t be awake after if I kill you.”

Akira smirks. “Then this will make a very nice deathbed, wouldn’t you agree?”

He can tell Goro is into it. Having Akira at his mercy is so thoroughly, completely, obviously his fetish that it’s kind of rubbed off on Akira now. Or maybe Akira was into that already—it’s tough to tell with the two of them.

“I could do anything,” Goro says. Quieter this time, serious.

“I trust you.” Akira holds out the mist for Goro to take.

He does. Akira’s heart rate immediately ratchets up—beating as fast as prey in front of a predator. His fight or flight mind conjures up all manner of dark and delicious deeds his boyfriend might do to him while he’s helpless.

Akira backs up. Lays himself out on their love nest/blanket fort/deathbed. Winks.

Goro throws down the mist.

* * *

And then Akira wakes up.

Sort of. He’s in that half-awake dreamy state, where he could fall back to sleep if he wanted to. This is usually when he finds Goro groping him one way or another and—yup. His mouth tastes like Goro. There are hands splayed open on his chest, his vest is off, they’re—

They’re in the Metaverse. The plan.

Oh, Akira should still be very much asleep right now.

He does his best to maintain his slow breathing, to calm his heart. Doesn’t try to open his eyes. Goro’s bare fingers trace a path down to his stomach. He’s barely started, Akira should really _really_ be asleep right now.

Goro murmurs something unintelligible. A hand disappears from Akira’s stomach, reappears in his hair. He can feel his right cheek is burning a little—Goro must have slapped him earlier to make sure he was actually asleep. Back when Akira was actually asleep.

And now Akira is faced with a dilemma: should he tell Goro he’s awake?

Goro’s other hand moves to Akira’s face—Akira can’t see him with his eyes closed like this but he can feel the heat of him hovering right above him. Goro ducks down and kisses him—coaxes open Akira’s unresponsive lips, dips his tongue in to explore.

Goro Akechi kisses like it’s an art, like it’s a technical challenge. Like he can be nothing but the best, like everything he does. Akira has never felt more relaxed and tense at once—freed from having to react or please his partner, bound to make no movement at all.

A thumb strokes across Akira’s cheek, just like that one time when Akira was sick. That still haunts him to this day. Happening again now. God, Akira is so fucking pent up.

“ _You’re so beautiful…_ ” Goro whispers, and Akira immediately decides he can pretend to be asleep for as long as it takes.

When would he get another chance like this? To help his boyfriend out in a way that benefits them both? To see Goro Akechi’s true form? He is a trickster, after all.

Goro peppers more gentle kisses across Akira’s face, taking his time. It’s so tender and sweet Akira could cry, if he could move. And actually—now that he thinks about it…

“To trust me like this—you’re so fucking stupid,” Goro says.

Now that Akira thinks about it… hm. Maybe he _can’t_ move.

“You make me _insane_ ,” Goro continues, none the wiser. “I…”

Ah, Akira knows this part. _I hate you_.

“I love you.”

A breath gets caught in Akira’s throat. Until his body forces it out again, outside his control.

_What?_

Goro gathers him up, holds Akira’s limp form to his chest. Akira can’t move. _Akira can’t move_.

“That’s what people say when they feel this way, isn’t it? I love you. Too much,” Goro says, quiet and shaky, holding Akira like he’s something precious. “ _Akira_ ,” he whispers like a prayer.

Goro has never said that he loves Akira before. Goro has never said that he loves anything before. Goro has never even said that he _likes_ Akira before. And Akira tries to respond, because he has to, tries to move, because he has to, but only manages to hitch his breathing again, to twitch his finger.

He’s actually paralyzed.

Goro _loves_ him.

Of course Goro loves him. Obviously Goro loves him. Akira knows Goro has been in love with him for years but that doesn’t mean he thought Goro would ever _admit it_.

Goro lays him back down, brushes some hair away from Akira’s face. Tenderly, even though he thinks Akira isn’t awake to feel it. And Akira is still reeling from each of a thousand revelations about his boyfriend when said boyfriend gets to work on unbuttoning Akira’s pants.

Oh god.

He doesn’t get a moment to parse that Goro loves him, because Goro doesn’t know he needs one. He can’t watch what’s going on to prepare himself for Goro’s touch, it just happens suddenly, unexpectedly. Goro pulls out Akira’s cock, his fingers fluttering around him, shyly feeling him out. Teasing.

Oh god.

Akira is so fucking hard already. This emotional bullshit got him _hard_.

“Beautiful,” Goro says, then licks a sloppy stripe from base to tip. 

Oh _god_.

Akira can’t move at all. He wasn’t prepared for any of this. He can’t whimper or clench his fists in the sheets or tell Goro to fucking wait just a second because—

Goro swirls his tongue around Akira’s head like a fucking porn star. Takes him into his mouth and swallows him completely one, two, three times before Akira can’t hold on any longer and convulses, taken unwillingly by his body’s pleasure and comes in Goro’s mouth—and then on his own stomach, after Goro sputters and pulls away.

A small, pathetic moan escapes Akira’s lips. His eyelids flutter, but remain sealed shut.

“Akira?” Goro asks, a little out of breath. Akira is still twitching when Goro grabs his face in his hand, turns it from side to side. Akira can’t react, even if he wanted to. Satisfied that he’s still “asleep,” Goro releases him with a chuckle, rustles somewhere farther away.

“That’s alright,” Goro says, a genuine smile clear in his voice, giddy in the way he gets when he’s winning. “This will take some time anyway.”

Akira’s brain has been replaced by cotton balls. One single cotton ball. Maybe he never had a brain to begin with. He can’t believe he came that fast.

Goro strips Akira’s pants off the rest of the way. Traces his hands up and down each of his legs, as if every part of Akira was precious. He maneuvers Akira’s body like he’s a doll, kisses him anywhere and everywhere all the while.

How long has Goro wanted this? How long has he been holding himself back, out of some misguided belief that they wouldn’t be equals? Of course Goro is nothing less than Akira’s equal, even here and now.

More than, if Akira is being honest with himself. As usual. Fuck.

Goro makes quick work of prepping him, like he’s been studying fingering in college along with the other three ridiculous degrees he’s earning at once.

“You’re so soft and warm,” Goro murmurs against his thigh. “You feel so good. I can’t wait to be inside of you, Akira.”

Akira whimpers.

“Is that good, Akira? Are you dreaming of me?”

A bead of sweat trickles down his neck. Goro wipes it away, then licks him in the same spot.

It doesn’t take long for Akira to grow hard again. Goro is touching him, kissing him, making love to him—using Akira’s body however he wishes and this is what he chooses to do, who he chooses to be. How could Akira not be into that?

Goro finally withdraws his fingers, hoists Akira’s legs onto his shoulders. “I read this position would be good for you,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. Akira wants to hold him, kiss him, tell him _yes_ , _yes_.

Tell him _please fucking god hurry up holy shit_.

Goro pushes in with a moan, one Akira’s body allows him to answer thanks to Goro’s size.

Akira shakes and quivers and begs his body to adjust quickly and Goro holds perfectly still, buried inside him to the hilt. “Akira,” he breathes. “ _Akira_ , it’s so… you’re so…”

Trembling hands take hold of Akira’s face, Goro’s forehead pressed against his own. He takes a breath, then another, then another, and starts to move. And Akira’s body sings.

“Ah-kir- _ah_ ,” Goro says again, drawn out in the last syllable. His slow, gentle strokes are making Akira insane with want for something rougher, something he knows Goro can give him. But then this all might be over much too quickly.

“Akira, Akira, is this good?” he asks, rhetorical, hopefully, because Akira can’t answer. He would give anything to be able to answer. “Akira, please,” he says, and then Goro’s tongue is in Akira’s mouth again, more frantic and unpracticed this time.

Akira moans softly, gasps in air as much as his body will allow.

“Yes, Akira,” Goro pants, presses his face inelegantly against Akira’s. “I love you, oh, _oh_.”

Slow turns frantic, gentle turns harsh as Goro bears down on Akira, pushes him back into the pillows he’d strewn around so carefully just earlier that day. Every single Goro that Akira has ever known—the pleasant, the desperate, brash, determined, this new gentle one, tender and sweet—they merge together behind his closed eyelids.

“Fuck, _fuck_ , Akira,” Goro whines.

Summoning everything he has, Akira manages to answer, manages to slur out an unconvincing “ _—ro_ ” as his body shudders in Goro’s arms.

He doesn’t remember much after that, not for a while at least. But Akira does remember the perfect little sound Goro makes when he comes inside him—wants to imprint it on his soul, bottle it so he can hear it again and again and always be reminded of the time he was lucky enough to see this side of Goro Akechi.

Akira’s body doesn’t wake up after they’ve finished. It doesn’t know that the sleep ailment was for a specific reason, that they’ve accomplished their goal.

Goro catches his breath quietly somewhere above Akira. He cleans him up, wraps a blanket around him. His hands hover above Akira’s chest, just barely brushing against where they so eagerly left their signature only a few moments earlier.

“You’re shaking,” Goro mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

Akira has never heard Goro Akechi apologize for anything in his life.

Mysterious rustling sounds behind him, and then Akira finds his limp form drawn up to rest back against Goro’s bare chest.

“Come here. Did I hurt you?” Goro asks. Holds him tighter, like Akira is a pillow or a teddy bear. “ _Akira,_ ” he says, no less a prayer than it was before.

Has Goro always said his name like that?

Akira rests against Goro’s chest, solid and warm, and continues to drift. His body is so sensitive—used and exhausted… shaking, like Goro said he was, but only a little bit. Not that much.

He wishes he could burrow closer to Goro… wrap himself around him… he smells so good… and…

* * *

And then Akira wakes up.

Mostly. He sits up slow, the unfortunately familiar scent of hot and sour tea overriding all his other senses.

He blinks his eyes open. Groans childishly, takes the container held in front of him. Better to get this over with.

Goro Akechi watches him—unblinking, like some sort of constipated owl—as Akira takes a few sips. They’re in the Metaverse, but Akira is struggling to recall what they were fighting when—

A rose petal catches his eyes. More of them. Pillows and blankets and, oh.

Everything rushes back—I love you, the tenderness, cuddling, coming too early (fuck), _I love you_.

Akira feels a smile stretch across his face. Can recognize how his body aches, how his clothes aren’t quite as unruffled as they were before. But Goro cleaned him up, dressed him, all while Akira was truly asleep again.

Goro doesn’t smile back. Hm.

He crosses his arms, looks away. _Hm_. “Are you injured?”

“No,” Akira says, still smiling, a bit more strained now. He reaches out to—he doesn’t know, poke Goro in the shoulder? But Goro flinches away. Just like he always would before.

Was it all a dream?

No. No, it wasn’t. That was a new Goro Akechi but Goro Akechi all the same, as real as the one in front of him now.

But now Goro won’t even look at him. “Goro…” Akira asks, stilted and awkward, unfit for the Joker outfit he’s wearing. “Are you alright?”

“Of course I am,” Goro answers immediately, smiles back. Fake. “I got what I wanted. Now we’re the same.”

Okay. Akira’s throat constricts in a way it never should around his rival/boyfriend/lover/whatever. He can’t help but draw his limbs further toward his body, feeling vulnerable and self-conscious for the first time in years. Was he… a disappointment? What the hell could he do—he couldn’t even do anything, that was the whole point.

Wow, Akira _hates_ this.

So he does what he does when he feels uncomfortable and exposed and confused: he puts on the mask of the person he’s with. Steps into Goro’s shoes for a moment.

And—ah, wouldn’t Goro be feeling vulnerable and self-conscious too? All of Goro masks… was what Akira witnessed really his true self? Is that what he’s been hiding, all this time?

So Akira could reassure his boyfriend, tell him that whatever happened was for him alone—that he can continue hiding, like Akira would do for anyone else. 

But Goro Akechi would never want to be coddled. And Akira Kurusu has never been failed by a leap of faith.

“I was awake,” Akira says.

Goro freezes. His eyes widen comically, visible even beneath his mask.

“Kind of,” Akira continues. “It was like I was paralyzed, but I, uh, remember it. All of it.”

“What?”

“Yeah. And, uh,” oh, Akira really should have figured out what he was going to say past this. “You were—you were great, Goro. You were perfect—all I wanted was to tell you that I—”

“Stop! You—” Goro scrambles to his feet. This is going all wrong. Akira has about ten seconds before he bolts.

“Please—” Akira says, grabs his boyfriend’s hand. “Please don’t go,” he says. The words are alien on his tongue—Akira has never begged for anything in his life. “Please. I love you.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“You know I’m not.” He tries to channel all of his feelings, all of their history into the hand holding Goro’s, implores him to understand with his eyes. He’s done everything he can—the rest is up to Goro. “ _Please_.”

Goro stares at him.

And stares.

Stares and stares and stares, calculations behind his eyes, furious blush high on his cheeks.

He takes Akira’s hand, presses it to his chest. Akira can feel Goro’s heartbeat. “You’re shivering again,” Goro says.

“It’s cold in here,” Akira mumbles. Embarrassing, but at least Goro’s talking to him. His heart continues to beat beneath Akira’s hand, steady and strong.

“You were awake? Truly?”

“I missed the start but yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Goro says. He sighs, then looks again at Akira with something that resembles fondness. Akira wonders if this was what he was missing, while his eyes were stuck shut.

“I missed you,” he takes Akira’s hand, brings the knuckles to his face, presses his lips against the red fabric. “It was good, but I missed you.”

Oh. Well then.

Akira’s body screams in protest of what he’s about to do, but he doesn’t care to listen. He twists his hand in Goro’s grip to rub his thumb against his lips, soft like Goro did to him.

“I’m here now,” he says.

Then Akira moves—grabs Goro and tosses him backward onto the incredibly messed-up nest behind him.

“Seriously?” Goro exclaims. “Again?” He tries to get up but he gets caught in the mess of blankets and isn’t quick enough. Akira collapses down on top of him, pushes him down into the pillows and shimmies into a proper straddle.

“You have no idea what you’ve done,” Akira laughs. He can’t wait another moment to tell Goro he loves him, to touch him back, to see him when he comes. Akira rips the stupid helmet off Goro’s head and captures his lips in a kiss.


End file.
